


Calm Before the Storm

by Open_Sky



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: A little angst, F/M, Fluff, Ghost is a precious little thing and you cannot change my mind, Happy New Year!, I hope you like it!, I'm sorry for the long wait, Jonerys Secret Santa 2018, then fluff again, this is it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2019-03-20
Packaged: 2019-09-30 05:07:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17217590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Open_Sky/pseuds/Open_Sky
Summary: The heavy oak door of their chamber opened with a creak, casting an orange lane on the hallway’s floor. She slipped in. With a silent sound of gratitude she thanked for the attentive hands that kept the fire alive, not letting the cold invade this little haven of hers, theirs... Although, if she was honest with herself, it was not really the place her haven, it was the person she shared it with.There is peace to be found before the storm comes.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheWolvenStorm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWolvenStorm/gifts).



> Hi there! So this is a fic I've written for the Jonerys Secret Santa event for my lovely giftee, TheWolvenStorm. It took a while to finish it, and I'm really sorry that I couldn't post it in time! Thank you for being so patient, Shayel <3 I tried not to make it a piece of crap but you'll see, I guess.
> 
> I want this to have at least a second chapter, so don't worry, I have plans for the baby bump fluff too :)) I haven't forgotten.
> 
> Also, a big shout-out to Aliciutza who is the biggest angel in this fandom and also a perfect Auntie. Thank you for betaing this chapter and encouraging me, Alice!
> 
> Here we go, I hope you like it :))))

 

* * *

 

 

She had no appetite. It was evening already, yet she barely eaten anything that day, her stomach protesting vehemently every time she even tried to lift the fork to her lips. The smells— the smells were the worst. Her insides seemed to make a turn from just a piece of roasted meat put before her, which was quite a problem considering the limited selection of food during the winter.

Daenerys stared at her plate, wishing she could at least tell what was wrong with her. These past few days she just hadn’t been herself. Absentminded, easy to anger, sometimes even _depressed_ , a state of mind she really wasn't accustomed to.

It would have been relieving to assume that it was only the unforgiving cold or maybe the unusual, heavy Northern meals they were served, but that just...

No, something felt amiss.

Surely, the cold was terrible, often making her kneel before the hearth in the room she and Jon shared, wishing for Dragonstone or even the torrid heat of The Great Grass Sea, but that couldn’t be it. If anything, she almost grew used to the weather during this fortnight they had spent between Winterfell’s walls, just as she had less and less difficulty enjoying the thick meals they ate every day.

After a last, hopeless glance at her dinner, making sure that it hadn’t become – by any chance – any more appetizing, she let out a little sigh and turned to her right where Jon had attentively been listening to one of Arya’s many adventures.

Dany admired the little she-wolf, her wit, her strength, her bravery, but what she liked the most about the girl was the way she could make Jon smile. Even now, as they sat at the high table after a most tiring day full with battle preparations, the two of them could speak as one would do during the summer.

She didn’t see much of Jon’s face from that angle, but the crow’s feet at the corner of his eyes and his low, rumbling chuckle were just enough to indicate his mirth.

It was a tale about cats and an angry barber in Braavos, if she heard it correctly, and probably a very amusing one concluding from the easy laughs of the pair. Daenerys usually liked to hear these stories too, be happy, sad or tragic.

But as excellent of a storyteller as Arya was, she just couldn’t stay here for any longer. She found herself yearning for peace, quiet and the solace of their chambers. Maybe a hot bath or a cup of warm herbal tea to settle her stomach.

“Jon,” she said and patted his shoulder. As the kind brown eyes turned to her she already felt a bit better. _He is magic,_ the thought made her smile. “I think I’ll retire for the night.”

The relaxed look on his face instantly turned into one of concern. “Are you alright?” he asked, a frown on his face. Without thinking, she lifted her hand to his brow, the furrow disappearing as she traced the skin.

“Yes, my King,” she whispered. “I’m only tired. Stay with them,” she dipped her head towards the Stark siblings, “I’ll see you later.”

Dizziness hit her as she stood to bid a good night, her hand instinctively reaching for the chair’s backrest. The room turned around her dangerously and her eyes snapped shut. _What in the Seven Hells was wrong with her?_ She could only hope that the stumble went unnoticed by the others.

Dany forced her eyelids open and looked around. Fortunately no one besides Jon seemed to pay attention to her momentary weakness, but he looked like he was ready to jump out of his seat to catch her, his muscles flexed in worry and anticipation.

“Daenerys?”

His voice was low and distant. She was really not alright.

“I’m alright,” she mouthed to him before addressing the hall. She wished a good night to everyone and stepped out in the hallway, not even caring if her Unsullied guards were following her or not.

She tried to take a deep breath but it was hard, almost too hard. Maybe she should have told Jon, but... He looked so happy with his family. Careless. An all too familiar ache in her chest reminded her that she would never experience this, so she wanted even more for him to have these moments. The war may be still months away but their time was limited, and they may not live to see the spring.

 

The heavy oak door of their chamber opened with a creak, casting an orange lane on the hallway’s floor. She slipped in. With a silent sound of gratitude she thanked for the attentive hands that kept the fire alive, not letting the cold invade this little haven of hers, theirs... Although, if she was honest with herself, it was not really the place her haven, it was the person she shared it with.

“Ghost,” her whisper broke the silence when she noticed the big, white wolf lying next to the bed. Ears snapping forward the ruby red eyes opened and she couldn’t help but chuckle at how human Jon’s friend looked at that moment, sleepy and disorientated, so like Jon himself in the early morning.

“And here I was wondering where you have been,” she laughed as Ghost got up and padded to her, then pushed his great, fluffy head into her chest. “Hey, boy.”

She scratched the place behind his ears, just where she knew Ghost liked it. “Have you had a good sleep?” she queried playfully, which earned her a few enthusiastic licks to her face. “I bet you had.”

Still not feeling too well she walked to the bed, her snow-coloured companion trailing behind her as if he knew she might need his support. With a tired huff, Daenerys dropped on the furs, wondering if she actually had gotten sick or she just had a few unlucky days when she woke on the wrong side of the bed. “Do you think it will pass?” she whispered and reached towards the wolf she grew so fond of in these days.

Ghost pressed his nose to her belly, sniffling, and she burrowed her hands into his soft fur, relishing the warmth that sipped into her bones. “What are you doing?” she wondered, but he completely ignored her, which was quite strange because she could have sworn that he understood mostly everything they were saying, and few things did this magical beast leave without reaction.

Instead, he chose to lower his head, putting its entire weight in her lap. She smiled. How could something so dangerous be so kind and loving? _Adorable_ , a voice in her head offered, and she couldn’t suppress a snicker. She hadn’t spoken like that since she was a little girl as being a queen required a certain formality in the language she used.

It was only now, in these moments that she realised how much he lost herself in being a queen. She was always what her titles declared, never Daenerys, and certainly never _Dany._ It was Viserys who called her Dany, yet now in her mind, all she could hear was that Northern burr that always made her breath catch.

She bent over and pressed her forehead into the soft fur of the wolf. Not the most pleasant of smells, but the closeness was so calming, so comforting, and she let her tired heart soak it all up. _“Dany,”_ she whispered. _“Dany.”_

As she straightened she felt a few teardrops sliding down her face. Why was she so overly emotional?

Suddenly, Ghost’s head shot up, and he actually _wagged_ his tail, which was enough for Daenerys to momentarily forget her pain and let out an unexpected laugh.

“You big lapdog,” sounded the well-known voice at the door. “If it wasn't for your size I would never guess that you were a direwolf.”

She looked up to see Jon standing at the threshold, a flagon in his left hand and a few circle-shaped things that seemed like biscuits in the other. He looked at her face then, and she could see his eyes slightly widen, his lips close in a thin line. Without a word he crossed the room to the table and set what he brought down, then with a few long steps he was already crouching at her side, taking her face in his hands.

“You were crying,” his thumbs swiped across the wetness of her cheeks, and she leaned into his touch. This was the second time he had actually seen her like this, probably more than anyone else. “And you look pale.”

Jon shook his head as if he could not believe what he saw. And in the next moment he was hugging her tightly, and he just might have been the only thing that kept her from falling apart, his strong hands closing around her, his hands stroking her hair.

“Why didn't you tell me?” he asked silently.

“I don’t know,” she burrowed her head in his neck. She never acted like this, yet now she felt the vulnerability she had hidden deep inside her coming out. It was probably because of this curious fatigue that came over her but strangely, she didn't mind. Or not so strangely. _It’s Jon._ “You seemed so happy. With your family. I... I wanted you to have more time with them.” She smiled, “I love when you are happy.”

At that, Jon drew back and swallowed, just enough place between them for him to look in her eyes. “You are my family too, Dany.”

He probably didn't even notice he called her that, but it felt so good, and for a moment she couldn’t even remember why she was so opposed to the name. The sheer emotions made her throat constrict, tears prickling at her eyes. Never. Never had she felt like this, so precious and so loved.

But before she could say anything, a wet nose jostled between them, making way to the rest of his head.

“Ghost!” Jon cried exasperatedly, although the laugh could be easily heard under the surface. “Damn boy, what happened to you? Stop acting like an overgrown puppy,” he chuckled as the _wolf_ licked all over his face.

“He says he is family too,” she jiggled, teary. “He doesn’t want to be left out.” Her arms wrapped around Ghost’s neck, who was once again sniffling at her stomach. _Curious._ “This little boy makes a very good company, by the way.”

“ _Oh,_ I’m sure this _little_ boy knows how to get in your good graces,” he scoffed. “Honestly, I have never seen him act this way.”

“Maybe he needed something else to see besides your broodiness,” Daenerys smiled at the roll of his eyes. A few moments passed before she spoke again, a new kind of nervous awareness getting a hold of her. “Thank you, Jon. For coming.” She was so glad he was here.

Jon lifted his hand and cupped her cheek, a sad smile teasing his lips. “I may not be the best liar but I can tell when you are lying. I could see you were not alright. Besides,” he leaned closer, his breath hot on her face, “Apparently I got quite restless after you’ve left and my sisters deemed it best to kick me out of there.”

At that, she burst out laughing. “They sent you out of the great hall of your own castle?”

“Not my castle,” he huffed a breath. “But aye, it seems.”

“Aye,” she mimicked with a giggle. How this man could make her feel better with only a few words, she honestly could not comprehend.

Ghost probably got bored of the conversation that didn't include him and went back to his spot next to the bed. Both of their eyes followed him until Jon’s eyes snapped back to her, the frown on his head only half-mock. “I honestly don’t understand them.”

At her quizzical expression he clarified, “My sisters. They were acting really strange after you left. Just... Whispering into each other’s ears and I didn't get to hear a word.” He shook his head. It was hard to contain her grin, the confused grimace on his face was priceless. “They were always fighting when we were children. Arya would always come to me to complain.”

“Oh, and now look at those two!” she nodded, her lips quirking mischievously. “They are shutting you out of their conversation. I think I get what bothers you, Your Grace.”

“Very funny,” he growled, and she leaned in to steal a kiss from those pouty lips. Gods, she missed his lips. It felt like a century passed since this morning.

“And you have no idea what they could’ve been talking about?” she sat back, now genuinely curious.

“No,” Jon sighed. “Sansa was quite fixated on you, though. Kept eyeing you strangely during the whole night. Have you noticed?”

“Really?”

“Aye. And it was after you walked out that she said something to Arya and they both looked like someone brought a chest full of lemons.”

“Lemons?” she laughed.

He answered with a snicker. “Every time lemons or oranges would arrive here it would almost count as a holiday. Lemons are a rare sight in the North, and they both adore lemon cakes.” Playfully lowering his voice, he continued, “Arya denies it but I’ve seen her smuggling out a plate full of them to her room.”

“I wouldn’t have guessed.” Dany moved a bit back on the bed and pulled her feet up before her. “Once I lived in a house that had a lemon tree outside. In Braavos,” she thought back fondly. “Those were the happiest years of my childhood.”

“Hmm,” Jon looked at her, considering. “Maybe we could go to Essos. After the war, I mean. We could eat them out of their lemon cakes,” he grinned. It made her remember how young they both actually were, and made her imagine all those silly things she would like to do with this man.

Jon jumped off the bed and stepped to the table.“Which makes me remember,” he picked up the biscuits, “Sansa sent you these. She told me you should be able to eat them.”

She caught his side-glance and cast her eyes down. _Of course they noticed I wasn’t eating._

“I don’t even know what’s wrong, Jon.”

“Don't ask me why but she seemed sure of herself.” He sat next to her, close enough that she could make out the little wolf sewn into the neck of his dark grey shirt. “She said her lady mother went through this a few times. She said to trust her in this, so... Maybe you should give it a try? Here,” he broke off a piece and held it up for her.

“It cannot hurt, can it?” She said, suddenly realising how hungry she was. She took the piece from him and popped it into her mouth, waiting for the nausea to hit her, yet it never came. “Oh, this is so good,” she hummed in content. Dany would never have guessed she would ever love ginger as much as she did now, tasting the unmistakable flavour on her tongue. “I don’t care how but your sister knows what she is doing.”

Jon chuckled. “Aye, I hoped so. Now I wonder what it tastes like.”

“Try it,” she shrugged.

He took a bite but his face contorted almost immediately. “Bloody Hells, what is this? This is awful.”

“Is it now?” she smirked. “I like it.”

He coughed, stuck between a laugh and trying to swallow the biscuit. “Well, I should be used to it now,” he coughed again. “You doing the impossible.”

Daenerys laughed again, completely forgetting why this started as a bad day.

 

 

“Don't keep secrets from me, alright?” Jon whispered into her hair as they lay in their bed, her head on his chest.

“Alright.”

“I mean it.”

“I mean it too,” she lifted herself off of him and braced herself on her forearm. His eyes bored into hers, and all she wanted to do was to drown in those stormy grey irises. “I’m sorry I didn't tell you that I was sick. I should have.”

He only shook his head and leaned up to kiss her, but she turned her head away.

“I still taste like ginger.”

“I don’t care.”

“I thought you didn't like it?”

“But I like to kiss you.” He grasped her chin gently and turned her back. “I love you, Dany,” he murmured before pressing his lips against hers.

_I love you too, Jon._


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm only about... three months late with this? That's not so much... Uhh, okay, I know it is. I'm sorry, my muse just betrayed me, and time was not my friend either :(((
> 
> Anyway, here it goes! I hope you'll enyoy it! Fluffy times before the war.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Clears throat* _Jingle bells, jingle bells, Secret Santa came~_
> 
> This is the second chapter of my gift for TheWolvenStorm! Love you, Shayel, I hope it's at least similar to what you've imagined! Thank you for your patience, it was really not my intention to be so late. <3
> 
> Also, a big thanks to my friends, Sobakasu and Aliciutza for their help and support. Thank you so much, this wouldn't be the same witout you! :)

* * *

 

 

His steps echoed in the empty corridor. Maybe another time he would have been annoyed that no guards seemed to patrol this particular part of the castle, yet now, for once, he was glad he hadn’t met anyone on his way. It’s not like they would question him, but he could do without his men gossiping about their king wandering outside way before sunrise, without a cloak.

Honestly, he wondered what kind of a devil possessed him to go out with nothing but his boots, breeches and a linen shirt to cover him, since he knew just enough about frostbite to see how dangerous and irresponsible what he did was. Then again, _his body never seemed to listen to whatever his mind was saying,_ he pondered with a wince, his eyes dropping to the angry red skin of his hands. His fingers only now seemed to start to let up from their almost-frozen curl, the white flower almost falling out of his grip.

“Seven Hells,” Jon muttered, adjusting the tiny plant in his hand. He woke up in the middle of the night and couldn’t fall back sleep– that much was okay. Going out for a walk to not wake Dany with his restless stirrings was also perfectly fine. _But where was my mind when I went to the goddamn glass gardens?_

In truth, he wasn't paying attention to where he was going, he simply let his legs lead the way. He didn't even notice when the stone walls and the orange flames of the torches were replaced by braziers and fresh snow scrunching under his feet, only coming to his senses when he saw a familiar form appear – his image mirrored in the thin, translucent door.

They used to hide there, when they were children. He and Arya would crouch behind the big clay flower vases in the back, muffling their laughs, knowing that no one would look for them in such a place. That’s how they always won the game. Truth be told, it was  cheating a bit, since children were not permitted to go inside alone, but hey– _everything’s fair in love and war, right?_

He laughed and shook his head, the sound reverberating between the stone walls. _Love and war._ He’d had a fair amount of both in the past year, Jon mused. Blood and fight and struggle on every step, but he wouldn’t give a minute of it to save his life, for that was the road leading to _her._

A smile played on his lips, as he looked at the flower in his hand. White petals, beautiful and vibrant like fresh snow, like her. Just as strong, too. It was becoming colder and colder by the day, so much that even the greenhouse couldn’t keep out the frost, yet this tiny thing hadn’t wilted.

_A Targaryen in the world is a terrible thing._

“You are not alone anymore,” Jon breathed. “Nor am I.” _Together._

 

He let out a breath, hoping the creak of the door didn't wake her. _I should really send someone to oil the hinges._

Jon looked at the silhouette of her, his beautiful wife’s form now so familiar in his bed. Their bed. One or two moons more than half a year ago did he stand before her for the first time and now he couldn’t even imagine his life without her in it. Daenerys Targaryen bewitched him in a way no one had before, and he let her gladly, his queen, his wife, his _Dany,_ the mother of their child who now grew in her belly.

A soft sigh pulled him out of his reverie. Daenerys turned towards him, sleepy, her arms reaching to the headboard in an adorable stretch. _Like a little cat,_ he thought with a grin on his face, albeit he had only seen cats two or three times in his life, when he still was a boy. Rare sight in the North. Arya told him there were more in King’s Landing, she even caught a few as training.

“Where have you been?” Dany blinked slowly, smiling, and the sight made his heart flutter. The furs slipped from her body, revealing the precious bump below her breasts. According to Sam, she was somewhere between four and five months along, and despite all the horrors they were facing, all the wars and fighting, all the fears and doubt, the knowledge that she was carrying his child was able to give him hope.

“Sorry, I didn't mean t’ rouse you.”

She huffed and shook her head, although he could see the mischievousness in the curl of her lips. “Oh, but you always do,” she answered and faked inconspicuousness while glancing to his breeches. _Damn, she will be the death of me,_ he snorted a laugh and tried to rein in the sudden warmth in his lower body.

“That’s not what I wanted to say and you know that.”

“So you _meant_ to arouse me.”

“Very funny, Your Grace.” Jon crossed the room with a few long steps to sit next to her, but instead of the kiss she might have expected, a playful impulse made him press one of his still cold palms to her neck. She gasped loudly and he couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him when he saw her startled, incredulous face.

“Jon,” Dany groaned and slapped his arm weakly, but it only intensified his amusement.

“That’s what you get for twisting my words,” he said waggling his eyebrows and finally pulled back his hand.

“You cruel, cruel man,” she pouted. “So where were you exactly? Judging from those hands you must have at least taken a bath in the Godswood’s lake.”

“No, but close enough. I went to the glass gardens.”

At her widened eyes, he realised that he had never shown her the place, even though he knew how much she loved flowers from the stories she told him of Essos. “You have...?”

“Aye, Lady Catelyn had it made sometime after she became the Lady of Winterfell. It was the very first in the North, since it’s quite hard to build ‘em here. I thought about trying it when I was Lord Commander at the Wall, but would’ve been too difficult. Should’ve had glass brought from Myr.”

“Hmm, we can try it, after the war,” she hummed. “We can even go to Essos and bring it ourselves. But before that, will you show me the one you have here?” she beamed, and it took everything in him not to pin her down and kiss that gorgeous smile from her lips.

“Of course. Though only few of the plants survived. This winter is nothing like anything here has ever seen,” Jon frowned, then he remembered that he actually brought something from there. “But look,” he smiled and lifted the small white flower he had kept between his fingers in his thighs’ coverage. “I found this there.”

Daenerys took it from his hand with childlike wonder, her teeth gently pushing into her lower lip, her eyes wide with mirth.

His lips curled upwards. “It’s just like–”

“You.”

“Me?” He leaned back a bit, eyebrows rising in shock.

“Yes,” she grinned, and tucked it expertly behind his ear. “Beautiful. Soft. Gentle,” and every word she accentuated with a peck to his lips.

“You are not seriously thinking that, are you?” His mouth hovered over hers, and he wondered if he had enough time to show a little _gentleness_ to her before someone knocked on their door.

“Oh, I am,” she finally kissed him fully, her lips parting his own, tongue slipping inside. He hummed in content, one of his hands coming up to caress her cheek, the other drawing small circles on her belly.

When they came up for air, Jon tucked a strand of moonlight-hair behind her ear. “ _You_ are beautiful. My beautiful queen,” he nuzzled his nose with hers, eyes half-lidded, lips a bit open. “And she will be just as beautiful as her mother,” his palm caressed her belly while he breathed a kiss to her neck.

“She?” she whispered and he knew her eyes were closed as her head leaned back to give him better access to the soft skin below her jaw. “You think she is a girl?”

“Mm-hm. A precious girl with her mother’s smile, your hair, your eyes...”

“Or maybe yours,” she interrupted softly. “I love your eyes. Your pretty hair too.” He snorted and she laughed, “Hey, that tickles.”

“For the old Gods and the New,” he groaned but didn't move away from her, leaning his head down to rest on her shoulder. “why can't people stop calling me pretty?”

“Because you _are_ , in fact, pretty, Jon Snow.” her arms circled behind his neck and Daenerys hugged him to her. “My pretty Jon Snow. Also, I think we will have a boy.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes. A prince, handsome and kind and honourable like his father.”

“I didn't say we wouldn’t have a boy.”

“Hm?”

“She will be a girl, but we’ll have little princes too.”

Dany turned to him, startled, and he leaned back with a toothy grin.

“Princes?”

“Aye. Princes and princesses. A whole lot of them.”

She frowned with a playful smile. “And how many... do you have in mind?”

“I don’t know. How about twelve?”

Her loud laugh made him chuckle too, the sound so sweet and so precious, he treasured every time he heard it. “ _Twelve?_ How ambitious of you, My King.”

“Well,” he leaned closer to steal another kiss from her soft lips, something he couldn’t get enough of, “I must say I quite love making them.”

“I noticed.”

Jon threaded his fingers through her hair, kissing her jaw, her cheek, her nose, then her lips. “How perceptive of you, My Queen. Although there _is_ something you didn't notice until everyone else knew.”

She huffed in annoyance and reached for the ginger biscuits placed on the table beside the bed, pushing away his hand. Sansa sent them the day before with a servant, even though her appetite was much better than in those first weeks. “You are a bit too proud of yourself, aren't you? For proving the witch wrong.”

Actually, it was not pride he felt but pure, blissful happiness and gratitude that he could make her wish come true, although he wouldn’t tell her that right now, not wanting to interrupt their light teasing. Maybe a little later. Next to the embarrassment, it amused him greatly that his sisters knew way before either of them noticed.

“You know, I could barely think about anything else ever since the Dragon Pit.”

“Oh? So now you are trying to tell that me the plan of us sailing together for Winterfell wasn't _purely_ political?” she blinked at him in mock-disbelief, taking a small bite from the biscuit.

Jon laughed. “I might be guilty of that. Don't get me wrong, everything about the political reasons I said was true, but I was also very happy when you agreed to sail together _._ ”

“I’d seen the benefits. I cannot say though, that I hadn’t thought of _other things_ why I would’ve liked to travel with you.”

“Dany, you are making me curious.”

Dany giggled, dropping back to the pillow. “Come here, Jon. I believe you still owe me an explanation as to why you were missing from my side when I first woke in the morning.”

“Right, sorry.” He lay down and wriggled to settle comfortably, then gently pulled Dany to rest her head on his chest.  “It’s simple, really. Had a nightmare. Woke up. Couldn’t sleep back. I didn't want to disturb you with my too much moving about so I went for a walk and ended up at the glass gardens, although I have no idea why.”

She sighed and he felt the exasperation in the sound. “You should have woken me.”

“Absolutely not. You need your beauty rest, _mama_.” Her breath caught and he couldn’t contain a smile. He called her that in his mind almost as many times as he thought of her as _Dany_ before his waking up on the ship departing from Eastwatch. Yet now was the first time he actually said it out loud.

A few beats of silence passed and he waited patiently, knowing how much the little word must have affected his wife, after believing for so long that she couldn’t bear children. Her fingers curled, fisting his tunic, then she finally looked up at him with a teary smile.

“Then so do you, _papa._ ” He felt tears gathering in his own eyes and warmth spread through his chest, so hot, so burning, but _Gods_ did it feel good. He never thought he would have a child of his own, but here he was, holding the woman he loved more than anything in this word to his chest, who carried their child in her womb. If only they would survive this war. If only they wouldn’t have to worry every day about the tomorrow– “What will I do with you if your gorgeous tresses turn all white from the anxiety and fatigue?”

Jon choked a laugh, tears running free on his face, but he didn't care, his hands too busy holding her to wipe them off. “Maybe then I would look the part,” he said, burrowing his nose into her hair, taking in the sweet and intoxicating scent that was so undoubtedly _her_. “Aegon and all.”

“I thought you preferred Jon?” she smirked up at him, her face just as wet as his.

“I do.” Hiding a grin, he mimicked consideration. “But... if you are right and it’s a little boy that we have in there, we could name him Aegon, what do you say?”

He had seen her laugh happily, he had seen her sad, he had seen her in pain and he had seen her mischievous smile, but he had never seen her so shocked, dumbfounded, dismayed. Laugh bubbled up in his throat and when it burst out she groaned in quite an unladylike manner, realising that he was _jesting_ , and she burrowed her face into his neck.

“I’d rather not, thank you very much,” he heard the muffled words, which made him laugh even harder.

“I’m sorry, I just had to.”

“Very funny.” After a moment of silence, she sat up in the bed, looking out of the window. The sun hadn’t risen yet but a faint yellow light had already filled the room. Soon they would have to get ready for the day. Problems did not wait.

“Jon, if it’s a boy...”

Seeing her furrowed brows he rose to envelope her in his arms, encouraging her to continue. She could tell him anything.

“Aye?”

“If it’s a boy... I thought we could name him Robb. After– after your brother.”

He leaned back, disbelieving. _Is she..._ Seriously? He thought...

“Really?”

She looked in his eyes and nodded, determination and something more, something softer sparking in her violet orbs. His heart blossomed with love and adoration, so much that it was a miracle he could hold it all together.

He slowly eased her back to the pillow, murmuring sweet nothings in her ear, kissing her lips, caressing her face, her soft locks, then moved farther down, placing his lips just above her belly button. Her skin was tender, hot, but he also sensed how different it felt with their baby growing inside, now mere inches from him. Her hands found their way into his hair fingers massaging gently his scalp.

It was dreamlike, this moment, and it was enough to help him forget anything but her and the life they had created together. “Hello there, little one,” he murmured. “I love you. I love both of you so much,” his eyes closed as her fingers increased the pressure, numb and happy. It reminded him of Old Nan, the songs she had sung to them before sleeping, and before he had known it, low, soft tunes were vibrating in his throat, and he let them out in a quiet croon.

Jon knew, then, that they would survive. They would live to see tomorrow and the day after, and they would live to see their children grow up, for he wouldn’t let anyone, not even the Gods take them from him.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Kudos, Comments and Bookmarks, as well as constructive criticism are always appreciated! Please, let me know what you think :))

**Author's Note:**

> In this story the timeline is a bit extended: there are a few months between their arrival at Winterfell and the Great War. They need time for the cute shit. War and worry are the death of fluff.
> 
> Kudos, Comments and Bookmarks, as well as constructive criticism are always appreciated!


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